Come Here To Papa
by The.Asphyxiated.Affair
Summary: Nothing less would he expect of himself but to craft the girl into living radiance. After all, she was the apple of his eye and the labor of his love; none other could measure up to her.


Come Here To Papa

"_ , Klein puppenkind, Komm hier zu papa. . ."_

He shook the tresses of pearly hair; noting that each and every flaxen strand was securely intact with the smooth undertone of porcelain. Tracing a rough finger across the high alabaster cheeks of the unperturbed face, he gently passed a circulating warmth from his large hand to the face he had cupped tenderly. Even then, in a midst of a barren sleep, she could feel the warmness of the overworked palm caressing her gingerly with adoration.

"._ . .Sitzen auf meinem knie." _Smoothing out her hair, he propped her bare body on his knee. He'll never let go; never. His hand found it's way from the rosy apples of her cheeks to the small, yet plump pink petals of her lips, smooth to the touch and glistening by the single wick of candle light flickering from his desk corner. Tracing the deep set outlines of her lips, he pressed his own to her forehead. Brushing the bangs with tiny pecks he traveled to the back of her neck. The smell of roses; always the same intoxicating scent. It lingered on her petite body, perfumed by the brilliant bloomed scarlet's he lavished her in constantly.

Perfection could never aspire to equal the honor she deserved; it could never justify her beauty. And soon, when he gazed at her through cerulean eyes, she would return the affectionate regard past her dark and sweeping brim of lashes. Nothing less would he expect of himself but to craft the girl into living radiance. After all, she was the apple of his eye and the labor of his love, none other could measure up to her.

" _I habe Küsse für die Rückseite deines Nackens._" Once more he kissed her neck. He had never attempted such a project as she had become; months had been spent on her design; a year for the half of her making. But could he deliver his objection? He patted her shoulder and ran his fingers through her silken hair, breathing in the roses. He shook his head, tussling the golden crown of hair hanging long around his slender face. He must get back to work, mold together the rest of the body, and finish her; the other half of his heart. Grabbing a chisel, he picked up the last note of his supple lullaby.

" _Ein Penny deine Gedanken Prinzessin_.. . ." He stopped abruptly and lifted the fragile girl in his arms. She deserved perfection; she deserved the world. He couldn't give it to her. Perhaps more experience? Perhaps he could create more tiny children and strengthen his skills and well adjust his hands for the art form. The man contemplated, holding the girl against the center of his chest. She could hear the mellow heart beat; strong and powerful yet soothing and comforting, just as she would remember him to be. Humming, his upturned lips brushed the cool surface of her forehead; he inhaled the aroma of her hair for the last in a while. The lips trailed down to the dolls tiny moth, grazing the smooth surface in a doting kiss. Crossing the room hesitantly, passing strewn porcelain body parts, piles of glassy orbs and patches of fabric, he ceased in front of a spacious shelf made of oak wood. She would remain in the discrete crevice of the shelves, far away from peering eyes and any harm that may come with an open work area. Patting her tiny head, he turned his back and briefly stopped to crumple and discard her design before making way toward the exit. As he flickered off the lights, his sultry tenor rang out into the hall way before him and the room behind him; past the work table and strewn body parts, to the grand oak shelf sitting against the wall in a veil of darkness.

" . . ._Ich werde sie jagen wie einen Smaragd."_

**Thanks to dark-firekitty for correcting the mistranslation!  
**

**Note: **This is my first Rozen Maiden fanfic, which is slightly odd considering how long I have been a part of the fandom. I just wanted to clear up that the man in the story is obviously Rozen or more recently known as Count of Saint Germain or Alessandro Cagliostro, and the little doll is in fact Suigintou. I had always wondered what Rozen was thinking when he created Suigintou and how he had been towards her while she was being created, for in various episodes of the anime he's shown giving affection to the other sleeping dolls. I also wanted to explore the possibilities of why her design had been erased and why instead of just making one perfect doll, Rozen made seven. I had the idea that perhaps he made more to improve his skills as a doll maker, thus leaving Suigintou unfinished to continue her when he was confident in his skills. There could have been more to the story, as in why he left her there and why he didn't proceed to finish her even after his skill was perfected but I thought that this was a good place to end it. Beside's, he wouldn't bring her back about 3 times if he didn't love her as much the series lets on to.

Not to mention there were all these stories about Suiseiseki and Shinku becoming Alice and living happily with Father and none on Suigitou's relationship with him. And last, I suppose this fic could be considered SuigintouXRozen. . .because it's a pairing that's never been explored before.  
Well, enough of my rambling. I hope you enjoyed the story.

The poem is by Anne Sexton:  
Little doll child,  
Come here to papa.

Sit on my knee.  
I have kisses for the back of your neck  
A penny for your thoughts princess  
I will hunt them like an emerald


End file.
